Beyond The Page
by Dmarx
Summary: He knew she was a fan of his books, but not until today did he realize just how deeply his words had affected her. A Spiral Bound spinoff.


_Summary: He knew she was a fan of his books, but not until today did he realize just how deeply his words had affected her. _

_Author's Note: For those of you who have been following my fic _Spiral Bound,_ parts of this might sound familiar...because this idea hit me while writing the most recent chapter and so this is kind of a spinoff. If you haven't read it, that's okay...just assume an established Caskett relationship. Or, you know, you could go find it on my profile and read chapter 52. __Or the whole story. Or, you know, just this one. Anyways..._

_I guess you can pretend that this takes place the morning after Always, but it's not canon with the story that I've created with SB. Also, we're going to pretend that she got her tattoo while she was in college (I'm not sure if we actually know when she got it, do we?)._

_Also, thanks to teelduo for the cover art!_

_Disclaimer: This is an AU spinoff from a fic that's already somewhat AU. Somehow I don't think the Castle writers do things like that._

* * *

**Beyond The Page**

"Seems fitting."

Kate lifted her head sluggishly, blinked her eyes open slowly against the early morning light, fought off the haze of pleasure that had settled over her, refusing to lift. "What does?"

Castle traced the ink on her hip, words small but legible. He had missed them the first time around in the fire and passion and haste of last night, but this next morning as he explored her body with a patience she did not know he possessed, he discovered the three little words inked in black just above her right hipbone. Kate remembered feeling him hesitate, feeling his fingers trip up and pass over that section of skin again as realization dawned.

And while he was far too caught up in the moment to even consider stopping and deciphering the ink right then, now that they had come back to themselves and were curled up in his bed he turned his attention to the markings. To the story that he knew was there.

"Your tattoo."

"Oh, yeah," she murmured. It was fitting at the time she got it. Still is, actually.

"What made you pick those words?"

Kate stiffened slightly, felt him tighten his grip on her, silently begging her not to clam up or leave his arms, his bed. But this was so not a conversation she wanted to have on their first morning together. Hell, it was not something she even wanted to talk about in the first month.

She had never told anyone about the inspiration for her tattoo, beyond the fact that part of the reason she got it was in memory of her mother. Then again, she never in her wildest dreams imagined that Richard Castle would know her by name, much less know that she had a tattoo.

And yet now that they were together, she should have assumed that he would ask. That sooner or later his curiosity would get the better of him. And apparently sooner had won out over later.

Lovely.

"I umm...come over tonight and I'll show you," she hedged.

"You can't just tell me?" he asked petulantly, though in his defense, Kate could tell he was trying to disguise it.

"There's a story behind it, Castle. It'll mean more that way." And it would give her a few hours to figure out how to approach the revelation.

He sighed and Kate watched him wrestle with it, fight his unquenchable desire back down into the depths of his mind, a fire to be rekindled at a later time. "Okay."

She leaned in, hot breath at his ear, figuring that distraction was always a good method of cheering him up. "Trust me."

He tilted his chin, brushed his lips across her temple sweetly. "You know I do."

* * *

With nothing to do and nowhere for either of them to be, they had passed the morning at the loft, relaxing (among other things) in bed, sharing coffee and quiet conversation in the kitchen, showering. Castle had tried his hardest to convince Kate to stay with him all day, and she wanted to as well, but she had a couple errands to run, a phone call to make. So she reluctantly exited his loft just before two in the afternoon with a kiss on the lips and a promise for a casual dinner tonight at her place.

And an unspoken promise to answer his earlier inquiry.

Castle showed up promptly at six o'clock, greeted her with a bottle of wine and an enthusiastic kiss that almost made them forget their intention to eat dinner.

Thank goodness for the delivery boy.

So they rearranged themselves enough to be presentable, ate a dinner of take-out Chinese on her couch, drinking wine, eating out of the same containers, teasing each other with wandering hands and curious fingers. And yet they somehow managed to make it through both dinner and the wine without jumping each other.

Kate finished her second glass, set it aside, and Castle did the same, leaned his head back against the sofa. She could tell that he was putting forth great effort to restrain himself, had seen the curiosity lingering in his eyes all evening. So when he crossed one leg over the other, met her eyes silently yet questioningly, he took that as a silent indicator that she really should stop putting this off. She rose from the sofa smoothly, her movements belying the choppy rhythm of her heart in her chest, and crossed to her bookshelf.

"Where are you going?" Castle reacted immediately, made to stand, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Kate.

"Stay here." She held up a hand, stopped him from climbing off the couch after her. If she was actually going to do this she needed a moment to compose herself. Without him eagerly looking over her shoulder.

Something flashed briefly in his eyes, disappointment, perhaps, but she knew it would pass when he understood what she was doing.

Kate returned shortly with a book in her hand...his book, actually...and held it out to him.

He took it from her, flipped it over in one hand, confused. "What's this?"

"I figured you'd recognize it," she teased as she plopped down next to him, sideways on the sofa so she was facing him. He laughed and she smiled, patted his arm in encouragement. "Open it."

"Alright."

He opened the cover, flipped through it, pausing briefly at the inside title page, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing. But Kate could tell the moment he found it because his entire body froze at the sight of his own handwriting staring back at him. His signature in her book. What...?

"Kate?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he lifted his eyes to her in silent question.

"Two-thousand-one," she answered softly, almost shyly. "Barnes and Noble on Fifth Avenue. I waited in line for two hours."

"God, Kate..." he ran one hand through his hair, the other still clutching the book preciously. "I wish I remembered."

"I don't," she spoke almost immediately.

"Why?"

Kate sighed, leaned back against the arm of the sofa. "I was a wreck, Castle. I was falling apart and your books were the only thing keeping me sane, keeping me from being pulled right down with my dad."

"Why mine? Why not other books?"

"My mom," she said softly, hand automatically rising to touch the necklace that she no longer wore, but the motion was still a habit, still ingrained. "They were her favorites. She owned every one. There was one..." she faltered, throat tight, "one on her nightstand. She'd been reading it when...you know. So I picked it up one night and couldn't put it down. It was so...hopeful. Justice was served. And I was hooked"

"I had no idea," he murmured.

"And then I went to the signing and you wrote those words and it was like...like you knew or something."

He shook his head. "I wish I could say that. But it was generic. I just pick three or four phrases, usually based on themes from the book."

She slid the novel from his hand, replaced it with her fingers as she traced patterns on his palm, soothing, comforting. "Generic or not, it helped more than you'll ever know."

His free hand slid beneath her shirt, found the ink again. "I can't even...God, I just..."

"It gave me hope, Castle," she continued. "And that was what I desperately needed."

"I'm glad I could help," he managed finally, voice choked with emotion and overwhelming love for Kate for being here, for sharing this with him.

"You did more than help. You saved me from myself. I don't know where I'd be now without your books." She twined their fingers together, leaned in to nuzzle her nose against his cheek. "Without you."

"I..." Castle faltered, unable to lend a voice to just how much her words meant to him. It was stories like hers that gave him a purpose, a reason to continue writing. And to know that his books had affected her so deeply...there were no words for the feeling that was overtaking him.

So he kissed her deeply, wrapped her in his arms and carried her to her bedroom. He stripped her bare, divested himself of his own clothing and joined her in her bed.

And by the next morning as they lay completely sated and surrounded by each other, finally drifting on the edges of sleep as the golden sun peeked over the horizon, they found that there was no need for words, spoken, written, or otherwise. There was no need for ink or signatures or entire novels penned by his hand.

Because they were stronger now; stronger than the words that brought them together, stronger than the words that very nearly tore them apart.

But now they would always have an embodiment of the first words that Castle ever wrote for her, before Nikki Heat was even a figment of his imagination. The words that saved her. The words that led them to each other.

And somehow, it seemed fitting that they would be inked on her skin forever.

* * *

_Never stop fighting._

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

_Thoughts?_


End file.
